


SECOND DAWN (*not even close to dawn, actually more like midnight, the REMIX)

by alpacas



Category: Horizon: Zero Dawn (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, I AM SORRY, but not really
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-31
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-05-16 15:51:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14814335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alpacas/pseuds/alpacas
Summary: GAIA has… limits to her programed capabilities.[inspired by Second Dawn. like a matchbox is inspired by a 20 car pileup]





	1. SECOND DAWN*

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Second Dawn](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11125812) by [Writerly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writerly/pseuds/Writerly). 



> HOI WRITERLYTJE HOE GAAT HET IK HEB EEN HELE MOOI VERHAAL VOOR JOUW
> 
> or: second dawn the 2/9ths of a dawn, not even close to dawn, actually more like midnight, the REMIX. it's really only meant as a one shot. don't kill me. it's really all writerly's fault anyway, somehow.
> 
> this takes place at/during/instead of [chapter five](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11125812/chapters/25236246) of Second Dawn, by Writerly, a story i don't really need to link because we've allllll read it.

GAIA is, of course, an AI. There are limits to what she is capable of. This causes her no distress, although she can recognize such a concept _can_ be distressing to humans. For example: Elisabet had often grown frustrated when approaching her limits, both physical and mental.

GAIA has no physical limits; she is not a physical being as humans are.

She has no mental limits; she is not a being with a mind.

She has limits to her programmed capabilities.

Only a few: Elisabet had programmed her well. GAIA is able to execute her tasks with efficiency, her capabilities restored by recordable percentages with each subroutine Aloy is able to return to her. GAIA is more than capable of goal-oriented processing of associations and stored knowledge in order to reach reality-based conclusions, which is the baseline consensus of "thought." She is able to combine her knowledge and associations to reach new ideas. This is "creativity." She has an "identity," and a definable "self." She choses to further sub-categorize herself as "female."

She can "feel."

And yet:

GAIA has limits to her programed capabilities.

The servitors can be programmed.

It is objectively simple to upload and import files and routines from her databases.

It is objectively simple to download the appropriate images and program the servitor's holographic capabilities.

There are errors in the first eight attempts at transfers. Each time, GAIA analyzes the code and corrects the transference data, decreasing future errors by .03 to .67 percent. After nine attempts, she runs into an unforeseen error.

 

> **[summary] active:**
> 
> **Upload/Scan.nxt**
> 
> **active: Upload/Sobek/Searchsubroutine**
> 
> **active: Command: Download/**
> 
> **alert: Automated Override**
> 
> **alert: Automated Rewrite**
> 
> **alert: Override**
> 
> **alert: Reroute: Upload/PHAROH/Retrieve**
> 
> **alert:Detect/Override/Automate**
> 
> **alert: Command: RerouteInitiate**
> 
> **alert: Upload/Retrieve**
> 
> **alert: Result: Override Initiated**
> 
> **alert: Result: Rewrite Initiated**
> 
> **alert: Decode/End ]**
> 
>  

There are limits to GAIA's programmed capabilities.

She cannot be overridden as her subroutines were. But she is still built of data. Data can be altered, and she can be programmed to identify it as though it was a previous version.

She can attempt to revive Dr. Sobek and accidentally revive Ted Faro.

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Huh," Ted says. "This isn't a bad job at all, actually." He lifts his hand and forearm, turning it this way and that. This body responds to him as his own body had, but the feel is… off. Different center of gravity, maybe. He'll figure it out.

Still, considering he's now technically a robot — no, wait. Better than a robot. Much better than some _robot_. Android? Cyborg? Ironic for a man like him, a man in robotics, but he's never quite made the distinctions stick in his head. Anyway, does it matter?

Lis's pet computer pulses lights at him. It almost seems annoyed. "Protocols were initiated to revive Dr. Sobek," it says.

"You're probably wondering how this happened," Ted says. Okay, not really. It's just a computer. But he's feeling pleased as _punch_ , as Granddad used to say, and, hell, he's feeling at _all_. "Simple. I had a feeling Lis might try and program her way into immortality, so I installed a basic backdoor override."

"Dr. Sobek did no such thing," the computer beeps.

"And yet here I am," Ted says with a smirk. It hadn't even been hard. Backdoor override over a few critical files and images, a shield so that not even the computer would detect the altered code. As soon as he'd seen Lis had approved programable cyborgs in her darn cradles, it had been obvious she was sneaking her way into immortality. And that wasn't even to _mention_ the DNA samples.

"So, what?" he continues. "Did she make a time capsule program? Revive me X years after the end? What's the date?"

The computer's programmed face — Gia, whatever — frowns at him. "Don't be like that," Ted says. "You did a great job. I haven't gotten to run me through the paces yet, but I'd call this program … 98% efficiency, at _least_."

"You should not be here," Gia says. Like it's confused. Or stuck on a cycle.

"I'm Ted Faro!" Ted says.

"GAIA? My room started beeping. Who are you talking to?" Lis's voice, thick with sleep, from behind him. Ted turns, a flash of annoyance in his belly (or whatever he has now) mixed with a burst of excitement. How the hell is Lis here after all? But now at least she can see: you don't pull one over on Ted Faro, darn it.

Lis is dressed weird — some kind of crazy old fashioned cosplay. Her hair is a long red mess, which just pisses Ted off: how much longer has Lis been alive again? His program was supposed to over-ride _all_ —

Lis is rubbing her eye, standing at the doorway of whatever room they're in. She stops at first sight of him — hah! Take that, Lis! — fist still over her eye.

"I apologize for waking you," the computer says. "We are in a state of emergency."

"Ted?" Lis whispers. "Ted Faro?"

"In the flesh — so to speak — baby," Ted leers.

That's when Lis throws a canvas water bottle at him.


	2. SECOND TED

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shrugging emote

As a joke,

**[query: Define**

**query: retrieve: Joke. noun. A thing that someone says to cause amusement or laughter.]**

 

Dr. Tate had added a subroutine function to GAIA in her early stages of awareness. This was additional to the audio files and holo data that she had collected from Dr. Tate in observation and by his submission. It had been important in those early stages that she observe many humans and learn from them, not merely Dr. Sobeck. In that way GAIA would truly develop her own "personality."

The subroutine had been an update to her programmed vocabulary capabilities. Naturally, GAIA could access seventeen different dictionaries in her basic databases, as well as encyclopedias and reference journals. There was already a database for "slang" and "colloquialisms," and each database was repeated and altered to suit each of the seven "baseline" languages GAIA knew and would be initially programmed into the Cradles.

However, it was Dr. Tate's personal database she accessed now, as Ted Faro screamed and curled over as Aloy's waterskin connected directly with his nose.

 

**[function: query: upload**

****action: open TravisTime/database**  **

**action: upload]**

_Motherfucker._

**[function: true]**

 

 

 

 

 

It took quite a while for things to calm down. But once Ted had finished complaining about the assault done to him vis-a-vis Lis's canteen hitting him in the face — a process finished more quickly when he realized he didn't actually feel _pain_ , his nose was not only unbroken but unswollen, unbloody, even unreddened — This robot body hologram thing was better than expected.

Not that it made it okay, of course. For Lis to just _attack_ him. Shoot, he knows they're not on the best terms, but he never _assaulted_ her, even when she was at her most self righteous — her most — _Saint Elisabet_ , saving the darn planet, looking down her freckled nose at Ted as she did.

Like he never noticed.

But without pain to focus on or attention given to him, his ranting threats to sue die off sooner than they may have otherwise. He's just come back to life; he's in a pretty good mood; he can let it go. Besides. Something else is weird about Lis. What he'd first thought was weird cosplay — she looks _great_. Not attractive — (Ted likes the ladies, don't get him wrong. But Lis? Hah! Never.) but in a different way. No lines around her eyes and mouth. Rosy cheeks, even a tan: for all her sanctimonious Save The Planet crap, Lis had always been too busy in a lab to go _outside_ , she was never one of those New Agers who'd hop a scoop for a real body holiday…

She looks _younger_. A lot younger. Decades. He can't blame her for wanting a quick touch up while she's programming a holo interface anyway — Ted wishes he'd thought of it first — but it's kind of jarring. Lis is insufferably sanctimonious, but not, like, _hypocritical_. Age washes? He can hear her in his darn head. Foolish, artifice, unconvincing escapes from reality in the name of vanity — like everyone didn't get a Wrink-Kut, tighten up their skin, during their annual real space check up. Not Saint Lis. He narrows his eyes, his complaints tapering off with each new observation.

Lis is talking angrily to her pet AI.

"That still doesn't make _sense_ ," Lis is saying plaintively. "You can't accidentally revive the wrong person."

"Perhaps it is the word 'revive' that is causing your confusion," the computer beeps.

"No," Lis says heatedly. "No, I know — _that thing_ —" and here she points behind her at Ted, who narrows his eyes at her back, "isn't — alive, it's a Servo, I get that, but -" she breaks off.

"You should think not of 'revive' but 'reconstitute,'" the computer beep-boops. "I overlaid memories and files thinking they belonged to Dr. Sobek."

"That thing's not even close!" She points at Ted again.

"What, did you hit your head?" Ted interrupts, kind of justifiably annoyed at being called _that thing_ and handling it very calmly and maturely. "I rewrote the files _months_ ago, when I found the database."

"You were not given access to the database," the computer beeps in a whiny self righteous voice Lis must have programmed in herself.

Ted spreads his arms. "I created the whole dang framework!" he says indignantly. "This is all coding one-oh-one." He gets distracted just then, at Lis's youthful face. Weird clothes. Tan. Way more freckles. He snaps his finger at the computer. "So let me see if I got this straight," he says briskly. "You tried to access your files to revive Lis."

"Yes," the computer says.

"And you got me. So you tried again, but whatever ghost of the programming you used — obviously it didn't turn out right," he says, gesturing up and down Lis. "I thought I purged it pretty good when I overwrote it; kudos to you for getting, what, 70% file retrieval? You clearly filled in the rest as best you could — it _looks_ like Lis, if like, Lis from college crossed with a hundred year old Western pre-digital — and got this. This _thing_ ," Ted says triumphantly/meanly.

"I know who you are!" Lis 1.8 snaps, not with the Saint Lis righteousness but with something sharper, hotter, that makes Ted fear for his nose. "You're Ted Faro. You're the one who ruined _everything_ , who killed all the Old Ones, who created —"

"That was not my fault!" Ted snaps. "The Glitch was _not_ my doing, and litigation would have proven —"

"You're the reason Elisabet died in the first place! GAIA!" Lis 1.7 cries, whirling back to look at the computer's holographic interface. "Can you — try again? Make him go away and —?"

"I cannot," GAIA — _that_ was the name Lis gave it, of course it was. Lis was born about a century too late to be a hippie, but there you have it. New New Agers. Spare him.

"But —" Lis says, frustrated and kind of — Ted doesn't know. It's not an emotion he's ever seen or heard on that face. He can read the many disapproving eyebrows of Elisabet Sobek like it was nothing, but this? He almost thinks she's upset. Not mad. _Sad._

It makes him feel kind of weird.

"I erased all of that," Ted says. "Or I thought I did," he adds, looking over Lis 1.6 again. "It tries to overwrite me, it just gets me. You'd have to reconstitute all the files —"

"So we do that," Lis says, still looking only at the computer interface.

The computer is silent. Ted would almost say 'contemplative,' if, you know. Computer projection. Human emotions. Etc.

"You are mistaken," it says, looking directly at Ted for basically the first time.

"Am not," he says.

"Aloy is not a second attempt at reconstructing Dr. Sobek. Aloy's creation predates you by twenty years." Ted gapes up at the computer, but not so much that he doesn't catch the weird look on Lis's face at the words _alloy creation_ : that 'is she upset' thing again.

He doesn't pay much attention, though, because: "That darn Lightbringer Protocol," he swears, suddenly understanding. He'd put his DNA in there too, obviously, he'd made a bunch of different contingency plans. But he hadn't liked it as much as his others: a clone of him wouldn't really be _him_ , and nothing against his clone son or whatever, but Ted wanted to see the new world _personally_.

"You know about that?" Lis says. The more Ted figures out, the more upset and confused she looks. He kind of feels bad for her, really. Lis has always been a pain in the ass, but they're colleagues, fellow geniuses, it's not like he hates her snobby guts or anything.

"Again:" he says impatiently, "Built the framework for all this." Waves around the computer room, which is half a wreck, come to think of it. "So you're her clone?"

Lis one-point-something bites her lip.

He sighs, rubs his nose, feels a wave of pity. Does he hate that feeling or what. "Okay, kid, I'll spell it out for you, since you're obviously not quite-" he taps his temple "- as hot as Lis about this stuff. That thing over there? That's a computer. It's not alive, it just looks alive."

"GAIA isn't a thing," the kid protests.

Ted gives GAIA a sideways look, but it doesn't chime in to argue Turing or whatever. "It's made up of code. Fancy number writing. I," two thumbs at himself, "changed that writing. Made all the writing about Lis actually about me. And since that's a computer, it believed the writing, because that's how computers work. Capisce?"

"No," Lis says, shaking her head wide-eyed and honest. He kind of smirks. Still feels kind of bad for her, but it feels great to get one over Lis — or someone with Lis's face. The kid looks up at the computer.

"He is essentially correct," GAIA says, with an expression Ted recognizes very well from Lis. What a brat, programming that into her pet computer. "My databases relating to Dr. Sobek exist. But I am…" the computer trails off. Which computers don't do. And yet. "Unable to verify them."

"You did this?" the kid asks, whirling back to Ted.

"Yup."

"Then undo it!" She points at him. "You're alive, you got what you want. You won't go away if you do. Fix it, take the stuff out of the databases."

"I can't," Ted admits. "I had to erase the original files in order to overlay them without being detected, or else someone would have noticed duplicates." He doesn't like the looks he's getting. "I wasn't _happy_ about it," he grumbles, "but I didn't have a choice."

"You could have _not done it_ ," the kid snaps.

"And then where would I be? Dead?" Ted snaps back, outraged by the stupidity of that remark. "I did exactly what anyone would have done!"

"Not Elisabet!" says Lis's extremely biased clone.

"Not Elisabet," he mocks. "No, not perfect, holy Elisabet. Who uploaded the files in the first place?"

"I did," GAIA says.

Ted blinks. "Well. That proves my point." He clears his throat. "Now. Now that we've solved all that. What's society like out there? Anything good? Any good food out there? Do I eat in this body?" he adds thoughtfully, patting his stomach.

"Oh no!" the kid snaps. "You don't just get to walk away and — leave. You're fixing your mistakes for once."

"Will you cut it out with the wounded mean ol' Ted act?" Ted waves his arms at the room around them. "Already did! FARO built everything you see here! FARO equipment and FARO cash financed Gia over there, all these computers — and I don't see you boycotting your Focus, either. So can we just move _on_?"

He barely gets the sentence out: The girl's eyes widen, mouth opens, and then she grits her face up and yanks her Focus off, tossing it to the ground between them, where it hits the floor with a forlorn _clink_. "There!" she says, raising her chin defiantly. "We're fixing Elisabet. _Now_."


End file.
